Crystal Prism
by 8BonnieBlue8
Summary: Your hand flies to your mouth as you realize what you’ve just said. Peter’s watching you with wide eyes and the sudden wish that disappearing was your ability grows stronger and stronger by the second. Elle/Peter
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: OK, now this is set in the episode four months ago and will continue on from there. I have made a few small changes but that's so the story will work. Hope you enjoy, and please review and tell me what you think._

When you were a baby you used to play with a crystal prism your grandmother got you, spellbound by the dazzling lights it created. This never went away over the years. Eventually the only stories and movies you would pay attention to had to involve some sort of fascinating light; your parents had a hard time pleasing you.

The first word you said was 'pretty'; your parents were a little hurt to say the least. You erased this by following up with an adorable 'mummy, daddy'. That pleased them greatly; you found that you liked to please people.

You were six the first time you accidently killed someone. You'd been fighting with your grandmother about going outside in the rain to play, the next things you knew blue lights were erupting from within you and setting the place alight. All you could think about was how much you resembled your crystal prism; the lights became your new best friend. Your grandmother died of smoke inhalation; you on the other hand escaped the burning house, too confused and exited to understand the magnitude of what you had done. You didn't even know she was actually dead until you were thirteen, your parents made sure of that.

It was the first time you killed someone, but it certainly wasn't the last.

When you were seven your father walked you through the doors of his company. It was huge and fascinating, making you feel a little like Charlie in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, especially when nice Mr Bennet gave you a Mars bar.

The feeling soon disappeared though.

By the time of your eighth birthday you'd had massive headaches almost every day and been exhausted beyond belief most of the time. You didn't realize it then but it was because of the testing the company performed you. You killed your shrink two days after the nonexistent birthday party – he wouldn't let you go out for play time. Your father scolded you while your mother looked on with disbelieving eyes. You don't get what's so wrong about the little shrink being so limp on the floor. You poke him to try and wake him up. He doesn't and your father pulls you outside. You still don't know what you've done wrong.

You're not allowed to leave the company for a long time after that.

The day before your ninth birthday your father takes you out for ice-cream. It's then he tells you mother's gone and isn't coming back. You remember screaming and prism lights shooting everywhere . . . but then you don't remember anything except waking up in a stiff bed with an IV of lithium (that's what the doctor called it when you asked, you made a mental note to check a dictionary when you got out) and surrounded by glass walls. Your father's only explanation was that you caused a black out in four counties and set two houses on fire before collapsing. You didn't say anything after that, too dejected by the fact of your mother's death and what you had done. Your father left you in that room for eight _months_. You think you might've gotten out sooner if you hadn't killed four doctors and refused to eat anything. But you can't be sure.

Your death count is now six. Or seven if you count the cat last summer. But you really didn't mean to hurt the little cutie, honest!

The next fifteen years pass in a blur of white walls and pretty blue colours. You grow to like the people in the many cells and think of them as your toys. You play with them, happy with the cute little noises they make. They're the only thing that keeps your mind occupied long enough so you don't have to see the prison your life has become. It now revolves around three things – pleasing daddy, playing with your toys and pretty blue prism lights.

Sixteen more people are added to your count. You can't remember who any of them are.

At the age of twenty four your life has found another meaning, it now revolves around: pleasing daddy, playing with your toys, pretty blues lights . . . and visiting Peter. You like Peter, he's the most funnest toy you've ever had. Yet at the same time he doesn't feel like a toy. He's much too real for that.

He's your pinochio of sorts, a toy differing on the line of becoming a real boy. It's up to you whether he makes it. So when he asks what your story is you're momentarily stunned – toys don't have minds of their own, you decide what they're gonna say, gonna think. This one doesn't play by the rules. Still you tell him, not because he has you cornered, not because he's right or that you want him to know but because he's the only one who's ever asked. You're interested to see what his reaction will be. You don't know it then but this is the first step you've taken to making him a real boy. If you had, then you might've stopped.

The second is when he grabs your waist and lifts you onto the bed. That stunned you – once again toys aren't meant to decide these things. But your shock quickly disappears when he tells you that he likes you. Your heart stutters and you don't think you've ever been so happy. You like Peter and Peter likes you, in your world it can only lead to good. Then he kisses you.

You respond automatically even though you have no idea what you're supposed to be doing. You've seen movies and books and they've painted a pretty picture but there's still room for confusion. So you let your body make the choices – it seems to know what it's doing.

You're held up on a cloud of ecstasy and when he lifts your shirt over your head you barely even notice.


	2. This Complicates Things

_"It's not denial. I'm just selective about the reality I accept."_

_-Bill Waterson_

You wake up alone in your little toy's room. At first you search it futilely, trying desperately to reassure yourself that he didn't just leave. It's only after you've left the room, slamming the door behind you and locking yourself in your own room that you admit you've been used. The thought hurts more than it should. And as always when you feel such a strong, agonizing emotion you lose control of your powers.

An hour later your father comes in to tell you that Peter escaped; he does a double take at the burnt chars–the only remainder of your room. He doesn't ask what happened–he knows you well enough not to do so–and instead moves you into another room; a part of you thinks that he already knows any way.

You spend the next two days moping even if you don't know why. You've lost toys before and you barely even minded, just moved onto the next one. But this one's left a burning fire in your chest and nothing you do will put it out. Sure he was your first kiss and your first time but it still shouldn't bother you. You were bound to do those things sometime and you're lucky you got to do it with such a cute toy like Peter. Pretty, Pet Peter.

It's only when your father gives you the assignment of searching for him and your heart pounds ecstatically in your chest that you realize he was also your first love. You think your father knows this too for he puts an effort into warning you not to let your emotions cloud your judgement. Your answering, "What emotions?" does little to sway him.

You spend the next month searching the United States for your two toys, Peter and Adam, only to barely run across anything; although you might have a lead down in Texas. It doesn't help that you've been throwing up every spare chance for a while now and there's a nagging sense in the back of your head that you're late, too late.

It's only after two weeks of continued nausea that you take the plunge and buy a pregnancy test, if only to prove that you're not. Though, when it proved positive you threw it out your hotel window, deeming it faulty. You then went back to the store and took another test. When this too refused to comply with your wishes you turned it to ashes and bought another. Surely the whole store couldn't be faulty? After the seventh test you decided that that was indeed the case and moved onto another store. Ten pregnancy tests and three stores later you decided to go to a doctor, he, after all, could not be faulty and would tell you that you were not in fact pregnant.

Except he didn't.

Lying Mr Doctor Man ended up leaving the office in a body bag–he hardly deserved any less for lying to you. Two doctors later and you can't deny it any longer; even if you want to so desperately.

You don't know what to do. You've never been pregnant before and the thought scares you beyond belief. You can't tell Daddy–he'll be too disappointed and you hate it when he's disappointed. You don't know what to do. You know you could get an abortion but the option seems even scarier than the problem and your child-like eyes see killing your own family, your own child in that way or any other as evil. The baby's not some stranger after all.

Now as you drive towards the place Peter was last spotted you twiddle your thumbs nervously on the steering wheel. This new and terrifying revelation has made you slightly anxious about seeing him again and you wonder what you'll do if he drops the act – you're sure that's what it is now – and treats you nastily like so many other people do. You don't like it when people are mean to you and it often makes you want to cry. But you never do, your father wants you so much to be strong.

"Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn't change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. De Nile. It's not just a river in Egypt, it's a freakin' ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?"

-Meredith Grey


	3. To Trust or Not to Trust?

"_True friendship isn't about being there when it's convenient; it's about being there when it's not."_

_unknown_

Two days later you arrive at your destination and you're shocked to see Peter and Adam sitting at a coffee shop, pouring over some maps. It seems too easy to find them so soon. Hesitantly you get out of the car, unsure what to do now. You could shock Peter into unconsciousness and also do the same to Adam but they also have their own abilities to defend themselves. Then there's the part where the sooner you catch them the sooner you have to go home to Daddy and _that_ is a scary thought – you don't stand a chance of hiding something like this from him.

It's too late though to reconsider–Adam's already spotted you.

"Hello, Elle," he says to you calmly, shocking Peter out of his thoughts. "Fancy seeing you here."

You glare at him not willing to answer. There was a time when he was like an older brother to you but then he started ignoring you and you still have no idea why. It hurt though and now he's gone and taken your new toy away.

"Elle?" Peter says in surprise.

You don't say anything to him either; in the end he's the one who hurt you the most. You can feel the electricity bubbling up in your fingertips, begging to be released and part of you wants to bend to its will. A very large part.

Adam's studying you with an unreadable expression like he used to do when you were still friends. Eventually he kicks back the third chair at the table and gestures for you to take a seat.

"Come, take a seat," he tells you calmly. "We could do with some more company."

Peter's starring at him as if he's suddenly gone mad; you think it's quite possible that he has. Regardless you take the seat, glaring at them all the while and suddenly you feel like a little kid again when your father takes you to visit the company. You don't know what the rules are, what's to be expected or how you should act. It's a new world for you, and you don't like it.

"I assume your father sent you," Adam says, leaning back in his chair. He doesn't look that much like a man who's finally cornered and begrudgingly you find yourself agreeing with him. He's always known how to play you and it's doubtful he won't use that to his advantage now. "You still do whatever he says?"

"No!" You snarl, knowing he's right. You don't feel particularly ashamed about it but the tone of Adam's voice instantly has you on the defensive.

"Now, now, Elle, there's no use in denying it; we're all friends here," he tells you in a placating tone, his annoying little smirk, as always, driving you up the wall.

"Really?" You say in a disbelieving tone. "I must have missed the memo."

"I see you're still bitter," he notes.

"I wonder why? I mean, it's not like you suddenly started ignoring me, avoiding me, pretty much steering clear of anything to do with me for apparently no reason at all."

He nodded. "Still bitter."

Peter still hadn't said a word and despite your facade you're growing increasingly nervous in his presence. Adam, the idiot, seems to notice this and smirks.

"How about you ditch the father, Princess, and come with us?" Adam suggests.

"No!" It's the first word the sponge speaks and you can't keep the hurt off your face. Even if you were about to deny Adam's offer it still hurt to know that Peter dislikes you so much. You don't know it than but he only says it because he doesn't want you to get hurt. Adam on the other hand does.

"Come now, Peter. Ellie can take care of herself; she's a big girl after all."

"I'm not going to do it," you cut in–Daddy would be so disappointed if you did.

"Elle, you've been under your father's thumb for too long now." Your old friend suddenly goes serious. "Do you honestly believe he'd do for you what you've done for him?"

"Of course." But your voice holds reasonable doubt.

"You don't know him like I do, Elle. You don't know what he's done. I do . . . Don't throw your life away for him of all people." There's something pleading about his tone that you've never heard before.

"And what? You're saying I should throw it away for you two?"

"I don't care who you throw it away for as long as it's not him," he tells you. And you know immediately that this isn't part of some plot of his, but that he really does still care about you. And you don't know what to do. "Leave the company, Elle. You're finally old enough to do so."

"I can't," You say after a pause. "It's all I have."

And you can see it in his eyes, the defeat, and you wonder whose idea it really was to start avoiding you. You know your father never much liked the visits you gave him, would he have done something?

You turn to Peter who's watching the whole exchange in confusion. You still don't know what to do about the little problem the two of you have made. Your stomach does a little flip at the thought and you focus on the silverware in front of you. You don't know what to do, period.

"At least stay the night with us," Adam says after a pause. "For old time's sake."

You wouldn't mind spending some much long overdue time with Adam, but spending it with Peter has you feeling nauseas. You nod regardless; you really don't want to leave the comfort of Adam's side at the moment and it'll give you time to cook up a plan on how to bring them into the company.

Adam suddenly scoots his chair out a little and opens his arms wide. It's an open invitation for you to come and sit on his lap, something you haven't done in years. Despite this you spring at the chance to bring some sort of familiarity back into your life and are on his lap within seconds. Peter watches this with an expression torn between confusion and amusement. Adam's laughing one of those happy laughs that only you could ever get out of him and you grin. If you could stay like this forever, in the arms of your surrogate brother while the rest of the world remains none but a dream you think you'd be happy.

"_Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love."_

_Jane Austen (1775 - 1817), Northanger Abbey_

A/N: I don't know whether everyone likes Adam but I had to include him in this. Not only is he one of my favourite characters but I've always seen him and Elle having some sort of relationship together, whether as friends or lovers. So yeah, I hope you don't mind.


	4. Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned

"_Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change."_

_Malcolm X (1925 - 1965), Malcolm X Speaks, 1965_

You're crouched on the bathroom floor, unwilling to leave the toilets edge. It's five in the morning and you should be tucked up in bed like a good little girl but the stomach bug–more commonly known as morning sickness–won't let you do so.

You can hear footsteps approaching the hotel room's bathroom door and unconsciously cringe away from it. You don't want anyone to see you like this, especially when you feel on the verge of crying out your frustrations.

The door opens and it's Peter. He looks genuinely concerned but you can't let yourself believe that it's really for you. After a pause he heads over to your spot on the bathroom floor and crouches down in front of you. You wish it was Adam there instead of Peter. For one thing you don't particularly want to explain to him why you're on that bathroom floor after throwing up for the past 15 minutes and then there's the fact that Adam always used to know how to make you feel better. But no amount of wishing will change the situation you're in now.

"Elle, are you OK?" he asks and you can again see that concern in his eyes.

"Fine." But your voice sounds croaky and it's blatantly clear that you're not fine.

You see him shift uncomfortably and your thoughts involuntarily drift back to the time when you were last alone together. You're filled with a sudden bout of anger and struggle to your feet. You really don't want to be alone with him any longer than you have to.

"You don't look fine," he tells you as you head over to the sink.

Turning the tap on, you refuse to answer him.

"Elle, are you sure you're-"

In a fit of rage you swing around to face him, your face flushed with anger. "You used me! You told me you liked me, than when I wake up you're gone! YOU USED ME! So I'm sorry if I don't feel so inclined to tell you what's wrong!" You don't think you've ever been so angry in your life; utter rage isn't something you usually happen upon. It's a dark emotion that leaves you feeling empty and upset. You also don't think you've ever said something so serious before. You turn to stomp out the door but are brought to a screeching halt by Peter's hand on your arm.

"Elle, I'm sorry-"

You cut him off, too angry to listen to anything he has to say. "No, you don't get to be sorry. You don't get to be anything!" Then it slips out, the one thing you were trying to keep hidden. "I'm pregnant!"

Your hand flies to your mouth as you realize what you've just said. Peter's watching you with wide eyes and the sudden wish that disappearing was your ability grows stronger and stronger by the second.

"You're pregnant?"

Silently you nod before exiting the bathroom. You storm towards the hotel door, too angry and upset to think about what you're going to do. Just before you've reached your destination you feel a strong hand grab your arm and hear Adam's silver-tongued voice in your ear. Only this time it's urgent.

"Elle, where are you going?"

"Leave me alone!" You snap, wrenching out of his grip and stomping off.

"Elle!"

"_Speak when you are angry - and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret."_

_Dr. Laurence J. Peter quotes (American "hierarchiologist", Educator and Writer, 1919-1990)_


	5. Whatever happened to the simple days?

**_Graham Marshall_**_: Whoa, let's not all panic - you, you, and you panic; the rest stay calm.  
__  
__  
__ - _**_A Shock to the System 1990_**

Peter's P.O.V

You're in a daze, unable to grasp what you've just heard. Elle. Pregnant? With your child?

Well, she hadn't exactly said that last bit but it was pretty well implied. You bury your head in your hands and let out a sigh. How did you get yourself into this mess?

The plan was to kiss her, not freakin' screw her. But of course, you'd always kind of liked Elle and when you'd kissed her you hadn't been able to stop just there. The memory hurts you now; to see the way she'd looked at you with such trust and joy, completely naive to the fact she was being used. You guess that in point of fact that's exactly what Elle is – completely and utterly naive.

With a dash of sadist on the side.

You tear yourself away from that thought and instead focus on the problem at hand. Elle. Pregnant. You. Father. Whatever happened to the good old days when it was just you blowing up New York City? Something simple, you know?

You wonder whether you should go after Elle, she didn't look so happy the last time you saw her and a part of you is definitely worried. There's no telling what she's gotten herself into, with your luck she'll probably have been hit by a bus by now. Yep, you should definitely go after her, especially if you want to sort this whole thing out. Although you have no idea how exactly you're going to do that.

You're brought out of your thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door being slammed open and you see Adam storming in, his face murderous. You have a moment to be confused before you're slammed up against the wall.

"What did you say to her?" he demands.

You don't think you've ever seen Adam so angry and admittedly you're a little intimidated even though you know he can't really do anything to you.

"What?"

"Elle! What did you say to Elle?!"

"Why do you care? You told me to stay away from her!" The words might not make complete sense but the intention behind them does. Why does he care, when he warned you against her?

"Of course I told you to stay away from her! I didn't want her to get hurt!" Adam rages before taking in a breath to calm himself. "Now, what did you say to Elle?"

"It's not exactly what I said to her, it's more what she said to me," You say uncomfortably. This is not exactly a conversation you want to be having whilst pinned to a wall.

"And what did she say to you? And if it was something weird, well, that's just Elle; don't be too effected by it."

You stare at him; could that last sentence be used in conjunction to what the tiny blonde told you? You know it's just wishful thinking but still.

"She told me she's pregnant."

"Ah." Instantly Adam let you go as if he had been burned. "Great, just great," he said sarcastically, sweeping his hands across his face in frustration. "Her dad's going to kill her."

You shift uncomfortably, what did you do in a situation like this? "I'm sure he won't kill her."

Adam shook his head. "No, he will. The least we can hope for is that he forces her to get an abortion."

You stare at him open mouthed. You may just have found out that you were going to be a father and the thought may be beyond daunting but you don't want to kill it.

Suddenly Adam's anger returns and he shoves you against the wall. "How could you do this to her? Do you have any idea what she's been through?"

You wonder how Adam automatically guessed that you're the baby's father but don't dwell on it; you're more caught up in the rest of what he's said. "Been through?"

Adam sighs and lets go of you before pacing towards the door. You don't think you've ever seen him so upset and realize that he must really care about Elle, especially with the way he glances anxiously towards the door that she disappeared through only minutes before. "What, did you think living your life in the company was a walk in the park? You were there for all of four months; imagine being there for sixteen years. Thirty for me."

"But she's the boss's daughter; surely it'd be OK for her?" You hope that it would have been. You've heard the highlights of her life and you don't want it to be any worse than that. But you know deep down it is.

Adam sighs, suddenly looking his age, which is pretty old. "Bob loves his daughter. He just doesn't love her enough." He looks down at the ground, his face contemplative. "I was there when Bob first brought her in. She was a tiny girl, barely even seven. Her hair was up in pigtails and when she passed my cell she smiled at me. And I remember wondering, 'what was an angel like her doing in a place like this?'

For the next twelve years she visited my cell almost every day. I still don't know why she did it, but I suspect she was lonely. Elle's always been lonely.

Not long after she first came the tests started. At first they were simple, painless tests. Elle can remember those ones. But then her father developed some sort of sick obsession with finding out all he could about her power. The tests were conducted down the hall from my cell, so I could always hear the screams . . . Over time Elle's mentality began to fray, brain can't handle that much electricity you see," Adam told you, seeming lost in another world. You listen, horrified, to the events he was describing. What else could be hidden behind Elle's expression of innocence and sadistic persona? Or is that really all there is to Elle–innocence with a dash of sadist? The thought process is familiar and something that has been travelled to a point well near obsession.

"So, she's crazy?"

Adam shakes his head."She's a child, that doesn't necessarily translate to crazy."

You stare at him; when did 'child' come into this talk? In fact, when did Elle's life story come into this talk? Despite this, you find yourself wanting to know more, curious to find out who Elle Bishop really is.

"Why doesn't her mother do something? Why doesn't she stop it?"

Adam once again shakes his head. "Her mother's dead." Then, as if unsure whether to continue, says, "Elle killed her."

Your whole world spins; Elle killed her own mother? You'd had a sinking suspicion that the tiny blonde had probably murdered someone, what with the way she enjoyed inflicting pain so much, but you would never have guessed she'd kill her own mother. "What?"

"It was an accident, of course. One that Elle doesn't even know happened. Back when she was a child, Elle's power was very hard to control and during the last few months of her eighth year electricity would randomly explode from her; whether as a result of what her father did to her or just because she couldn't control it, I don't know. What I do know, though, is that it was very powerful, extremely powerful. The force went about ten metres wide and burnt everything in its path. It left her feeling exhausted and ill. Anyone who was caught up in it died. Her father kept her isolated in a room for three months; she was only ever let out to see me since I couldn't die from any of her explosions.

Then, during one of her many visits, her mother came. Bob hadn't told Elise anything about what was going on, she only knew about Elle's ability. So she came into my room, right in the middle of one of Elle's episodes. Well, she had no hope, especially since it was Elle's most powerful one yet. Afterwards Elle completely broke down, if Bob hadn't erased her memory of the event and every other episode she had I don't know what would have happened." Adam pauses glancing up into your wide eyes. "She can never know, you understand that right? Something like this would destroy her."

You nod. You wouldn't dream of it.

Then the aged expression slips off Adam's face and it's as if the past talk never happened.

"Well, I better go find her," Adam announces, opening the door. "I've never known a person more prone to get into trouble, there's no telling what she's gotten herself into during the time we've been in here."

You move to follow him, eager to make sure she's OK and to try another go at apologising but Adam holds up a hand.

"I think it would be best if you stayed here. Give me some time to cool her down before you go about pissing her off again."

You nod, understanding what he's saying and watch as he leaves.

"_The truth is rarely pure and never simple."_

_Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), The Importance of Being Earnest, 1895, Act I_

_..._

"_Better be ignorant of a matter than half know it."_

_-Publilius Syrus (~100 BC), Maxims_

A/N: Right, well, personally I think this chapter sucked. I'm just not that great at righting Peter, or Peter and Adam conversations. But I thought it was necessary to put this in. So yeah, sorry about the bad chapter, hopefully next one will be better.


	6. Hiding From the Rain

_A/N: Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been packed down with a load of school assignments, and exams are coming up so I might not be posting for a while. _

_In reply to AlwaysanAngel's review I do get what you're saying now that I think about it. Although I've never really thought about the second P.O.V that way in conjunction to Elle. I don't know, for me when I'm writing it, it seems more like her messed up internal dialogue. I don't really know how to explain it but it just feels right when I'm writing for Elle in this story, since she's kind of unique I thought I'd use the most unique P.O.V. I'll probably drop it for Peter and any other characters though. But I do get what you're saying and I have considered it. I hope that it won't be too much of a problem and thanks for telling me._

"_Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don't worry...I'm here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you."_

_-Charlie Brown to Snoopy_

You sit, crouched, on the front seat of your car. You've spent a good part of the night crying, much to your chagrin, and now that that was over you felt confused and lost. Deep down, you'd kinda hoped that once you told Peter everything would have sorted itself out. But you remember the look on his face when you told him and doubt he's going to be in any condition to help anytime soon.

You look out the window and cringe; it had been raining for the past thirty minutes and it was a good cause for the option of staying in your car the entire night. You really did hate the water and rain was no exception. You remember there used to be a time when you refused to even shower in it; a time that ended when your daddy chucked you in the bathtub. It had been a painful experience as the shock of the action had caused you to let out a bout of literal shocks and coincidently you ended up electrocuting yourself. You never protested about showering again, but you never got in the bath after that either, showers were just fine.

You turn the music on and close your eyes, trying your best to block out the rain that pelts the car's outer exterior. A part of you wonders whether if you ask it nicely enough it'll go away. But enemies don't go away and you've never had an enemy bigger than the rain.

There's the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement and you open your eyes just in time to see Adam hopping into your car. His clothes are soaked through from the rain and his hair is plastered to his scalp, you shrink away from him. Adam grins and closes the car door, shielding you from the nasty rain but not from his own saturated clothes. You wonder why he doesn't lean away from you when he knows how much you hate the water and send him an angry glare.

"Come now, Princess," Adam says with a smirk, "don't go glaring at me."

"You're wet!" You exclaim as if it's the most terrible thing in the universe.

He smirks, amused. "The way I hear it, that's the least of your problems."

You sigh and lean back in your seat, your face a mask of annoyance. "He told you."

"Not willingly, Princess, I assure you," he tells you with a smirk.

You grin in reply. "What'd you do?"

"Held him up against a wall."

You snort in amusement. "Wish I'd been there."

"Hey now, I thought you liked Peter."

"Yeah, but that was before he used me and knocked me up."

Adam nods, a small grin on his face. "I can see how that would be a problem."

You stare out the window, not at all comfortable with the current conversation. You don't notice the empathetic look Adam sends you while your back is turned, the one that instantly disappears when you turn to face him again. You sigh, debating over what to say.

Eventually you just say the most truthful thing you've ever told anyone and probably will ever tell anyone again. "Adam, I don't know what to do."

His expression softens and he smiles at you. "Well it's my belief that you don't have to know exactly what to do. One step at a time, Princess, first decide what you're going to do tomorrow then comes the next day and the next."

You look up at him, your emotions a chaotic mess. That doesn't exactly solve the problem, although it does help a little. There's a thousand questions you want to ask him, like why he's suddenly your friend again (though you think you already know the answer), what you're supposed to do tomorrow and the day after that (You really don't see the difference in planning that and planning something on a later scale) whether he thinks Peter likes you (not that you would ever ask him that) and whether he knows a good place to buy some slushy (it's been a while since you've had one). But a movement to your right halts anything you were about to say and you see a man standing under the shelter of the hotel's roof, hands in his pockets and dark glasses covering his eyes. You think he looks sort of like one of those stalkers in the movies, or else a detective. Either thing would suit the way he's watching your car; though he might just be admiring it seeing as it'd be pretty hard to see either you or Adam through the tinted glass covered in raindrops and it is a pretty cool car.

Adam notices your divided attention and follows your gaze, frowning when he notices the man.

"Do you think he's from the company?"

You shake your head. "Nuh uh, too pretty." And boy is he pretty; you might just have to tie him up for a little bit and see whether his screams are just as pretty too. It'd be a nice distraction and 'sides, a little torture never hurt anybody.

Adam snorts at your statement. "Yes, because all company members are unfathomably ugly."

You're too distracted to notice his sarcasm and say, "Got that right. The guy ones anyway; Bennet's not so bad."

He stares at you. "Excuse me while I throw up."

"Okey-dokey." You giggle as Adam rolls his eyes.

You study the man's angelic features and smile to yourself, turning to Adam whilst practically bouncing in your seat. "Hey Adam, can I keep him? Can I? Can I?"

As if hearing your statement the stranger smirks.

"Bloody hell," Adam mutters, starring at you.

"Please, Adam, pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top," you say with puppy dog eyes and a pout that always used to make Adam bend to your will.

He shifts in his seat, clearly at a loss as to what to do. You grin, you know you're only using this to distract yourself from everything that's really going on but you really do like the stalkerish-guy, and it's fun to see Adam squirm.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, seeming at an utter loss. "What about Peter? You've got him, don't you? One man at a time, Missy."

You nearly double over, laughing at the look on his face combined with his words. "I told you, I'm angry with Peter." You pout again for good effect and look up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Adam."

"Bloody hell." He turns to you, contemplating. "What if I got you a puppy instead?"

Your eyes light up and you barely resist the urge to spring into his lap – wouldn't want to get all wet. A puppy would be so much better, so much fun; a puppy would make everything better. "Really?"

"No." Seeing your disappointed look he grows slightly exasperated. "Oh, come on, Elle, how am I supposed to buy you puppy? Or get you that man over there, for that matter?"

"Go to the pet store."

"And what about the man?"

"I'm sure they have one for humans too," you say sweetly. You cock your head to the side in that way you do that's slightly childish yet slightly psychotic.

He looks out the window and grins. "Well, he's gone now, so you won't be having him after all."

"Damn."

"Are you staying?" Adam asks suddenly.

"Huh?" You ask, still wallowing in the disappointment of recent events.

"Are you going to stay with us and not go back to the company?"

"Of course I have to go back to the company. It's my home."

He snorts in disbelief. "Worst bloody home I've ever seen." Adam pauses, rethinks his statement. "Well, actually there was that one time in Mexico, with the dead dog and the . . . " he trails off. "OK, second worst bloody home I've ever seen."

You roll your eyes in annoyance. "This coming from the guy who spent thirty years in a prison there?"

"This coming from the girl who spent eight months in a prison there?" he retorted.

You glare at him. "I'm not coming with you!"

He sighs. "Elle, do you want to keep your baby?"

You nod stiffly.

"Then you can't go back to the company. They'll never allow you to keep it."

"Yes they will." Of course they would, once Daddy knew what you wanted he'd make sure of it.

"Trust me, they won't. And you're dad will make sure of it."

You look at him not fully believing it but you suppose staying with them a couple more days wouldn't hurt. "A few more days are all I'm staying."

"We'll see about that."


	7. Tell Me It'll Be OK,and I'll Believe You

_A/N: Sorry I haven't posted for a while, exams can take up a lot of time. Anyway, school's almost over for the year so I should be posting a bit more frequently; not making any promises though. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please review._

_..._

"_....I think one's feelings waste themselves in words, they ought all to be distilled into actions and into actions which bring results."_

_Florence Nightingale (1820 - 1910), in Cecil Woodham-Smith, Florence Nightingale, 1951_

When you wake up you're in Adam's bed and you assume he must have put you there since the last thing you remember is falling asleep in Adam's finally-dry lap. You can see Peter hovering–not literally–over in the far corner and you groan, Adam nowhere in sight; now you have no-one to act as a buffer between you two. The sponge notices you're awake and makes his way towards you, stance tentative.

"Hey," he says, bowing his head shyly.

You'd snicker if you weren't so angry with him. "Hey . . . Where's Adam?"

"He said something about grabbing breakfast."

You glance over at the clock which reads 5:00am and snort. "He'll be lucky if no-one throws him off a cliff for disturbing the peace this early."

Peter laughs and you can't help yourself from grinning; he has such a cute laugh. You stand up, trying your best to wipe the smile off your face–bad boys don't deserve smiles from pretty princesses. He stops laughing and looks at you, if this was a movie than there'd be awkward music playing in the background.

"So . . ." he starts.

You glance around the room uncomfortably. "So . . ." There's no way you're going to make it easy on him, he's gonna have to supply the conversation.

He too spares a couple of glances around the room and you nearly roll your eyes; what the hell is taking Adam so long anyway? Peter's gaze returns to you and his eyes are intense.

"I meant what I said earlier; I am sorry."

You stare at him, unable to tell whether he's sincere or not. You've never been sorry and the meaning is foreign to you; sure you've said the words enough (Daddy doesn't like it when you don't jump high enough) but you've never meant them before.

"You don't believe me," he notes after a pause of you gnawing on your bottom lip, there's nothing accusing about his tone.

You immediately stop the nervous habit. "I don't know how to," you answer honestly; it's a new thing for you – honesty – and it's one you seem to be experiencing a lot lately. He nods, as if he understands but there's no way that he could.

"Would you believe me if I told you I wanted it, that I wanted you?"

You appraise him with your eyes (the ones that Daddy, Adam and Bennet have all praised at least once in your life); not willing to believe what he says is true. But you're a sucker for happy endings; you want to be that princess who gets taken away by her white night and lives happily ever after and you can't see anyone else about to be that knight but Peter. Besides, he has no reason to use you now.

"Prove it," you demand, stubborn as always.

Peter's eyes dance like you've just given him the perfect invitation and all of a sudden his lips are on yours. You don't pull away, you've made a challenge and you're never one to back out and besides, you're not so sure you want to. It's not like your first kiss, which was rushed and passionate, this one's a lot more gentle and slow; reassuring, you decide. It's a feeling you're not used to and a part of you wants to flinch back from the startling strangeness of it. But the other part, a much larger part, never wants to let it disappear because it's warm and happy and those are two things you like very much.

There's the sound of a door being slammed open but you both ignore it. That is until you hear the exclamation from the door opener.

"Ah! Break it up!"

You and Peter spring apart and turn to face Adam, who's standing there looking aghast.

"Adam," you whine. "I was enjoying that."

He rolls his eyes and Peter blushes.

"Right, first of all, we need to lay down some ground rules," Adam announces. You cross your arms irritably; you hate rules. "There will be no kissing, hand holding or touching whilst in my presence. You will not be saying affectionate lovey dovey things when I'm around. In fact, I don't want to see the two of you so much as looking at each other whilst I'm in the room." He shuddered.

"But, Adam-" you whine.

"Nope."

"But-"

"Nah uh."

"If we just-"

"Absolutely not."

you cross your arms and walk away in a huff. Peter and Adam stare after you with small, amused smiles on their faces. You ignore this and make your way into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you; a shower seems like a good idea right about now, and maybe afterwards you can fry the two idiots.

...

You crawl into Peter's bed, ignoring his surprised gasp.

"Elle?"

"Hey, alligator," you greet, settling yourself against his chest; he flinches, startled by your close proximity. You've never been known for your ability to understand personal space and that still hasn't changed. Words mean very little to you – anyone can lie through their teeth – actions on the other hand are a lot more real. They mean something; words don't mean anything so there's barely a day in history when you don't manage to invade somebody's personal space. You don't get why they flinch back when you touch their faces, play with their hair; you don't get why they look at you like something from out of space when you settle in their laps and play with their hands. But you know it's not normal and yet you still do it anyway.

So you're surprised when, instead of pulling back, he wraps his arms around you, the warmth of his body seeping into yours which is still cold from being up and about. You smile like I child on Christmas, like you used to on the Christmas's you still remember.

Somehow his hand finds its way to your abdomen and all of a sudden that little thing that you have not been avoiding no matter what Adam says comes back in a flash and you shift uncomfortably. Peter's hand retracts and you know until that moment he hadn't even realized what he'd done. There's a pause filled with light breathing and awkward shifting.

"I'm sorry for leaving you like that. For leaving you to find out alone," he whispers, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck; you shiver. There's no need to wonder where the conversation has turned to.

You don't turn around to face him as you reply, scared to see his reaction. "Are you OK with this?"

There's a sigh from behind you. "I don't know. It's new and scary and I don't think I'm ready. But at the same time I've never been happier," he admits.

You smirk. "Do you have any idea how cheesy that sounds?"

"Oh yeah."

There's a pause and you close your eyes, contemplating, before opening them once more. "Do you think everything will be OK?"

"Yeah," he breaths after a pause. "I think everything will be OK."

You nod and hesitantly take his hand, slowly leading it to your stomach and holding it there, he doesn't pull back. "What about this, do you think this will be OK?"

"Yeah, I think this will be OK."

You close your eyes, relieved to hear the words whether they're true or not. For the first time in your life words mean something and you've just had a very serious conversation with them. You don't plan on repeating it again; seriousness has never been your forte.

You fall asleep about ten minutes later, Peter's hand still resting on your abdomen.

...

In your dream there's a white room; empty and bleak in all its glory. It's big and seems to go on forever but you can't help but feel claustrophobic within its walls. You glance around, searching for anything but white but there's nothing there; nothing but you.

"It's nothing personal, Elle," an unfamiliar voice echoes around the room.

You swing around, looking for the source, but there's nothing there. You frown, confused, and brush a stray piece of hair from your face. You notice something out of place on the far wall; a red poster of sorts. You step closer cautiously, picking up your pace after a few seconds. As you approach it the black writing mixed in with the red on the poster becomes clear – _Sweet Dreams, Elle._

You don't have any time to contemplate that before the floor beneath you opens up and you're sucked into a spinning vortex of black. As you're falling you wait to wake up, knowing that in dreams and nightmares you always wake up; that you'll never reach the bottom of this fall because dreams are such poor dramatists that they never finish the story they're telling.

So you wait and you wait, biting back the scream in your throat. You wait, but you don't wake up.

...

"_Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place."_

_Ice T, The Ice Opinion_

"_To be mature means to face, and not evade, every fresh crisis that comes."_

_Fritz Kunkel_


	8. There's a History Here

"_They say dreams are the windows of the soul--take a peek and you can see the inner workings, the nuts and bolts."_

_Henry Bromel, Northern Exposure, The Big Kiss, 1991_

When Peter wakes up the next morning there's something soft pressed against his front. At first he just about jumps out of his skin but then the events of last night come rushing back and he smiles softly, opening his eyes. Elle's asleep beside him, her hand still clutching his even in sleep. Peter doesn't think he's ever seen someone so adorable before, and, OK, maybe adorable isn't the best word seeing as that has been known to piss grown people off before so maybe beautiful fits better. Yes, she's definitely beautiful. It's different, because he's never thought of her as beautiful before; hot, cute, annoyingly childish? Sure. But beautiful, it just isn't something Elle often gives off. But she's definitely beautiful now.

Hesitantly, he brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face and leans forward to kiss her forehead; she doesn't stir and Peter smiles in relief. He slowly gets out of bed, careful not to wake her and heads over to the kitchen, withholding a chuckle as the faint sound of Adam's sleep talking reaches his ears from the other bed.

"Good dog, bad dog, what're you looking at tadpole?"Adam's definitely strange to say the least.

Peter opens the cupboard doors, taking out some cereal that Adam had brought back yesterday. He's just about to pour himself a bowl when the sound of whimpering is brought to his attention. Peter sets down the packet of cereal and walks back to his bed where Elle is thrashing violently, apparently in the throes of a nightmare.

Concerned, he rushes to her side, shaking her slightly as he tries to get her to wake up. "Elle!." Her eyes remain shut and she continues thrash. Worry rising he shakes her again, calling out her name in hopes that she'll wake up; she doesn't.

Adam's by his side in an instant, woken from his sleep by the sound of Elle's whimpers. His approach to Elle's nightmare is a lot calmer than Peter's; he takes Elle's hand in his, rubbing reassuringly, and trails a soothing hand down the side of her face, whispering comforting words in her ear as he does so.

Peter sighs in relief when eventually Elle's body stills and she's back to sleeping peacefully again but there's a sense of worry deep down because she still hasn't woken up yet. Adam seems to be thinking the same thing because, like Peter before, he's asking her to wake up but Elle doesn't heed to request.

"What's wrong with her?" Peter asks as Adam stands back with a sigh, defeated.

"I don't know," he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes catch something on her right arm and suddenly he's leaning in close, turning it over to get a better look. Peter's slightly unnerved when Elle still doesn't stir and notices for the first time just how pale she is. To distract himself from her chalky face he leans in to see what Adam's looking at. Peter's eyes narrow in confusion when he sees a purple needle mark on the underside of her arm, glaring up at him.

"How did she get that?" he asks.

Adam shakes his head, releasing her arm and stepping back. "I don't know but it wasn't there yesterday . . . I think someone's given her something to make her like this."

Peter frowns, concern rising. "Who would do that?"

"The company. I saw someone spying on us earlier, could be a company man."

He stares at the other man in disbelief. "The company answers to Bob, why would he do this to his own daughter?"

"Why does Bob do anything?" was his response as Adam began shoving Elle and Peter's things in a suitcase. "Perhaps, he's realized that Elle isn't coming back, or that she's pregnant, and he's using this as a punishment."

Peter looks at him, confused, as he continues to pack. "What are you doing?"

"Frankly, it doesn't really matter who's done this; whether it's Bob and the company, someone from the company or something else entirely. It doesn't matter. What matters is finding out what's wrong with her and how to fix it. Our best bet is Noah Bennet, since, if it is the company doing this then he might know what it is."

Peter's eyes widen in surprise. "Claire's dad?"

Adam pauses in his task, looking up. "I don't know who Claire is but if she's the daughter of the one with the horned-rimmed glasses then, yes, Claire's dad."

"How are we supposed to find him? Bennet's been moving his family all over the place to escape the company."

"Molly Walker," Adam replies simply, zipping up the bag. "Elle told me about her back in Primatech. The girl can find anyone in the world, it's her ability."

"How can you be sure she'll help us?"

Adam throws him the bags one by one and Peter catches them in surprise, frowning when he realizes that Adam hasn't packed his own bag but before he can question it he's speaking again.

"Molly will help Elle, the two have a history. They're . . . close."

"Why aren't you packing your bag?"

Adam chuckles. "Bennet and I also have a history. Chances are if I come along he'll shoot first, ask questions later. You're better off just going with Elle, I'll ask around and see if I can find anything out."

Peter nods. His gaze travels to Elle's still form, her chest rising slowly to its own rhythm. He can't help but think she looks so delicate, like some kind of porcelain doll that could shatter at any minute; the new chalkiness to her skin that had set in overnight definitely supported his theory. Porcelain dolls are breakable and his unable to determine whether Elle's the kind you've just bought from the store or the kind your little sister's caused to shatter on the floor, millions of pieces spider webbing out in all directions.

"You'll take care of her, right?"

Peter's brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Adam's voice and sees the other man also studying Elle, an expression of severe worry that he hadn't seen up until now in place. He wonders just how important Elle is to him.

"Of course."

Adam nods. "Good." A grin suddenly takes place. "'Cause I have no qualms in killing you if you don't."

Peter nods, gaze drifting back to Elle. He and Adam had planned to save the world up until recently but that could wait; he had to save those he cared about first.

...

You look around the second white room you've landed in that night. This one's smaller, kind of like a hospital room, especially when the gurney in the corner makes itself known. You frown, approaching it slowly, unable to hide the gasp that leaves your lips when you see a small blonde girl strapped down on it. Her eyes are closed and you would've thought she was sleeping if not for the rushed breaths escaping her lips.

A door that seems to appear out of nowhere slams open and men in white robes walk in, faces stony. They walk over to the girl who you have now come to recognise as yourself and start sticking cords from a machine on her chest and head.

You look on in wonder as little bolts of electricity start leaking from every pore on her body, illuminating it completely in blue. And then the screaming starts. Blood curdling screams that make your ears ache and your horror swell. What the hell was going on?

"They're never going to fix this are they?"

You spin around and see another replica of yourself standing to your right. This one's clothed in a pink sundress and her long platinum hair fans out behind her. Crystal blue eyes watch the proceedings as you stare at her in shock.

"What do you-"

You're cut off by a shout in the distance and both you and the girl – uh, you – swing around to face it.

"Elle!"

Younger You # 2 grins when she spots your – uh, her – daddy standing in another random doorway, her blank face lighting up in happiness.

"Daddy!" she cries running towards him and you watch on in stunned silence as the scenery around you changes into one that strongly resembles a park. The sound of children laughing hits you like a whiplash and you don't turn to see the playground and the sandbox right behind you. Your eyes are focused on Younger You #2 who's still running towards your Daddy despite the scenery change. As she runs her most likely seven year old appearance slowly morphs until she's in the arms of your – her – daddy, looking very much like a five year old.

"Are you having fun?" he asks. Younger You #2 nods, blue eyes sparkling with joy.

"Daddy, can I get a doggy?"

Before your Daddy can answer there's the sound of footsteps and a blonde woman appears, smile in face. "Don't even think about saying yes, Bob. Not after what happened with that bird."

"Mum?" You gasp upon hearing her voice. It's been years since the last time you've seen her but you can still recognise her angelic face and voice; in fact, it's rather like looking in the mirror, although, you doubt you'll ever be able to make your voice sound so sweet.

The little girl's eyes widen in innocence. "I swear I fed him, I swear. He just don't like no food."

The woman chuckles, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her daughter's statement.

"And what makes you think I was going to say 'yes' anyway; I could just as easily have said 'no'?" Your Daddy says with mock offense.

Your mummy smiles, eyes amused. "Because it's impossible for you to say no to Elle; I swear, if she asked you, you'd buy her the world."

Younger You #2 giggles. "It's true, Daddy."

He rolls his eyes, disgruntled by the sudden ganging up and places the little girl back on the ground. "Go on, there's a swing finally free for you." She smiles up at him and, before he can straighten back up, reaches out her hand. Slowly her fingers lightly trail his right cheek.

"I love you, Daddy."

He smiles and leans forward, kissing her forehead. "I love you too, angel."

...

_6 hours previously_

At 3:00 in the morning a dark figure makes his way down the hall of a rather run down motel. His steps are careful yet quick as he approaches a door with the room number 13. Slowly he reaches towards the doorknob, watching in pleased satisfaction as it silently turns and opens on its own; locks are no problem for this man.

The guy enters the room barely glancing at the two men who seem almost as if frozen in time on their respective beds. No, he only has eyes for the blonde girl in the arms of someone he recognises as Peter Petrelli; he thinks of her as a girl quite intentionally never being able to connect the dots between her and what is respectively a woman.

"Hello, Elle," the figure greets, not in the least bit scared that his words might wake someone. A victorias smirk growing on his face, the man reaches into his duster pocket and pulls out a rectangular black box. He was feeling quite content about finally finding a chance to carry out his mission. For a week he had watched her now, planning, debating over when would be the right time to take action. Then, just before, out in the parking lot when the blonde had suddenly developed a need for his captivity in her hands he'd known it would be the right time. After all, Adam Monroe had spotted him and that would lead them to all kinds of dead ends when the two men finally realized what had happened to their precious Elle.

Smirking, the stranger cracks open the box after finally reaching the bed, revealing a needle and a flask of clear liquid that could easily be mistaken for water. Placing the box on the nightstand he reaches out a hand and grasps Elle's arm, setting it out in the appropriate position.

"It's nothing personal, Elle," he says still smirking as he reaches for the needle and flask. Carefully he stabs the needle into the material lid of the flask and watches as it sucks up the liquid. No, it wasn't personal; he had rules to follow and a job to carry out but the fact that he'd volunteered himself to go on this mission, well that was slightly personal. "I have a boss, just like you, Elle-Bear. And we both know we have to follow our boss's orders, don't we?"

Her angelic – or perhaps demonic – face remains impassive as she continues to sleep; although no rise and fall of her chest signifies that that is the case. Callously, he injects the needle into her arm watching in satisfaction as the liquid quickly disappears; phase 1 of his mission complete.

Straightening up, the man packs away the needle and turns away from the bed. "Sweet dreams, Elle." He glides out the door and locks it behind him, the only trace of his recent visit making itself known in the purple needle mark on her arm.

"_Evil when we are in its power is not felt as evil but as a necessity, or even a duty."_

_Simone Weil (1909 - 1943), Gravity and Grace, 1947_


End file.
